


Good Timing

by mmouse15



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-02 15:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12729132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmouse15/pseuds/mmouse15
Summary: Sometimes, the first meeting is not the only meeting.





	Good Timing

Title: Good Timing  
By: mmouse15  
Rating: PG  
Universe: AU  
Characters: Prowl, Jazz  
Content: Nothing to warn about. Sometimes, love happens in a single moment. At other times, the timing is not quite right and love takes a while.  
Wordcount: ~1500 words  
Notes: I went to a Train concert and they sang [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghZt2cILcCU), which sparked a plot bunny that was ferocious. Hence, a story. Enjoy! I'm going to use this for my cottoncandy bingo card, prompt=late night.

 

Jazz glanced at the tables in the café. It wasn't quite time to circulate with the warmed energon, so he leaned back against the wall and eased his weight to one pede, easing the strain on the injured cables in the joint. They were healing, but slowly, and sometimes, Jazz wished he didn't work at a job that required him to be on his feet so much. 

Shaking his head at his own thoughts, Jazz picked up the canister of warmed energon and began to move toward the tables. He smiled and offered refills, quietly querying each table for any other needs they might have. He was waved off by a couple of tables, he brought another plate of gelled energon to one table, wiped up a spill at a second table, and took the order from a third table, moving about his job quietly and efficiently. The trick to being a good waiter was timing and the ability to rush without ever looking as if you were in a hurry, and Jazz was superb at it. He worked in this café because the owner was kind enough to work around his other job as a musician, and Jazz appreciated the quiet of the late shift. The tips weren't as good as the morning shift, but they were still more than enough for Jazz. 

The door of the café opened again, and Jazz looked up to see another mech come in. He grabbed a cup, a menu, and the warm energon then approached the table, offering the menu and putting the cup down to pour the energon into it.

"Thank you," the mech's voice was hushed, "just gelled energon, please."

"Of course," Jazz replied, turning to fill the order. He continued his duties as the chef filled the plate, checking one couple out and taking their credits.

A crash filled the air, and Jazz turned quickly. The back table, where a mech and his youngling were sitting, had a shattered cup on the floor. The youngling looked horrified, while the mech looked angry.

Jazz moved over quickly, saying, "Sorry about that, I must have given you one of the slippery ones. Let me get you another," as he suited action to words and quickly put a new cup in front of the youngling, filled with warmed energon cut with cold, to make a mixture that would not burn the youngling's still developing mouth plates.

The mech said, frowning, "I'm sorry about that."

Jazz replied as he cleaned the mess, "Nothing to be sorry about, sir."

Jazz took the broken pieces to the trash, mopping up the sticky energon quickly, then bringing another rag to get the last of the sticky substance from the flooring. He looked up, feeling optics on him.

A black and white mech was watching him. Jazz gave him a smile, and the mech returned it. Jazz felt his spark quiver as he met the other's optics. 

The bell rang, indicating that the chef had an order ready. Jazz tore his gaze from the other mech's and forced himself to focus on his job. He scooped up the plate and delivered it to the table, then cleared the empty table and wiped it down. He restocked the condiments on the table, then looked toward the mech that had caught his optics.

He was gone, and Jazz felt a sinking sensation. He was too late, the mech was gone and he'd never find out…well, such was life.

Jazz went back to work, quietly mourning the loss of something he couldn't even define.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The next time Jazz saw the black and white mech, he was with another mech. They had the same frame type, and the new mech was gently holding the black and white's hand, playing with his fingers. Jazz pushed down the unwarranted hurt and served the pair with his usual competence.

They became frequent visitors to the café, and gradually Jazz got over feeling anything when they showed up. For the longest time, the blue mech treated the black and white well, but then things seemed to get rough between them, and they stopped showing up.

Jazz, meanwhile, had moved on and was in a romance of his own, being courted by a mech named Reverb. At first, Jazz was caught up in the flurry of new love, the discoveries and joy at seeing his beloved show up to his musical shows or his job at the café unexpectedly. Reverb was gracious, never drawing attention to himself and simply exchanging little smiles with Jazz, but letting Jazz focus on his job until it was done and they could leave together. Jazz thought himself a very lucky mech.

The black and white mech showed up occasionally, and Jazz finally learned his name, Prowl. Prowl was a wonderful customer, neat so that his table was easy to clean and always leaving a good tip. Jazz appreciated that kind of customer, since they made his job easier, and he grew comfortable enough to give Prowl genuine smiles while he served his meals and energon.

Then the conflict between the Council and the rebel Megatron spilled over into Jazz's life, and brought his happiness to an end. Reverb was killed in a street fight, and Jazz's world grew dark. His work as a musician started tapering off as bars were closed or wrecked by fighting, and his job at the café was the only thing between him and starvation.

One night, the explosions of fighting shook the café and the customers paid their tabs and left. The owner came down and put a hand on Jazz's shoulder.

"Go home, if you still have a home. I'm closing down. We've been lucky, Jazz, but luck can only take you so far. Here," the mech pressed a bunch of credits into Jazz's hands, "you've been the best waiter I've had. Good luck." He pressed Jazz out the door and shut it, turning off the lights.

Jazz stood in the street, bereft and wondering what his next step would be.

"Jazz?" a soft voice said.

Jazz turned and saw Prowl standing in the street. He shook himself and answered, "Hi, Prowl."

"What happened to the café?" Prowl asked, gesturing to the dark windows.

Jazz shrugged, "The boss closed it down."

Prowl processed that thought, then looked at Jazz, "What are you going to do?"

"I…don't know," Jazz confessed, the lost feeling echoing in his words.

Prowl stepped closed, cautiously, as if he were afraid he'd startle Jazz into flight, "Come with me?"

Jazz _did_ startle, backing a step away. Prowl froze, but his optics were intent on Jazz, steady and clear.

Jazz, for the first time in a long time, looked at Prowl. Their optics locked, and Jazz felt that same lurch in his spark that he'd first felt so long ago. He stepped forward again, his hand sliding into Prowl's outstretched one. Prowl gently closed his fingers around Jazz's, and Jazz slid his hand around to clasp Prowl's more firmly.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Vorns later, Jazz looked across Prowl's desk, over the stack of datapads and human paperwork strewn across the surface as the pair sorted through the piles left after their latest diplomatic mission to the humans, and asked, "Prowl, did you ever think that we'd get here, that night you came to the café and it was closed?"

Prowl looked up at him and smiled, the softness only ever given to Jazz, and replied, "I didn't know. I hoped, but the odds were not good."

Jazz chuckled, created another stack as he worked, "Meaning the odds were less than 10%?"

Prowl told him, "Less than 1%, actually." He handed Jazz more datapads to add to the stack.

"Lucky for us, then, that we beat the odds," Jazz said.

"I've always thought you were worth any odds, Jazz," Prowl answered.

Jazz stopped for a moment and looked across the desk at his lover and best friend, "Yes, and so are you. I'm glad we've made it this far together."

Prowl looked at him quizzically and asked, "So am I, but what brought this on?"

Jazz moved some papers into another stack and asked, "Do you remember the very first time you came to the café?"

Prowl smiled, "Yes, I do. I thought you were the most beautiful mech I'd ever seen."

Jazz reached across the desk and clasped Prowl's hand, "My spark knew you were somebot important to me."

Prowl turned his hand over and slid his fingers through Jazz's. He looked at their joined hands and said, "I'm glad you gave me a chance."

Jazz grinned at him, "I had no idea you were going to recruit me for the Autobots, though."

Prowl grinned back and said, "How else was I supposed to keep you around long enough to court you?"

Jazz laughed, and they focused on their work again.

After all, it had been a matter of timing, and Jazz was grateful that their paths had been close enough to continue crossing until the timing could be right for them.

The end.


End file.
